The Miracle
by Tabbyluna
Summary: Boredom was a terrible thing for a young faun to go through. What's a girl to do if she was born in a station like this?


After a quick breakfast of bluebells and sweet grass, her mother insisted that she needed to wear a red blindfold. "We've got something great for you today, Splat. Just look at you today, sixteen years old. You're practically a grown woman now." Her mother gave her one of her signature large grins. Her teeth were perfectly pearly white and straight. Splat always wondered how they could be so well kept.

With an eyebrow raised, Splat took the blindfold from her without uttering a word of thanks. While she tied it tightly over her eyes, her mother briefed her on what to expect. "Your father, grandparents, uncles, aunts, and I have all spent months deciding on what to get you for such an important day. That's why I've been having all those family meetings with them, you see. We didn't just want to get you something like a set of pencils. You're from an elite family, and because of that, I think you deserve to get something a little extra special for your birthday." Splat could hear the overly big smile in her voice. With her eyes hidden from view, she was free to roll them.

If they truly wanted to make her sixteenth birthday special and memorable, they could have gotten her more than one birthday present. But no, stupid old traditions dictated that fauns only got one birthday present every year until they reached their twenty-first year. Afterwards, no more birthdays. No more presents. She had always yearned to be born a different species when she was younger. One that allowed their children to receive more than one present on their birthday. To be quite honest, she still had that wish to this day.

She had her arms folded, and her legs were spread open in a most unladylike manner. Though she knew her mother was expecting a response from her, she chose to keep quiet out of a sense of teenage rebellion. She highly doubted that her family could get her any present that would interest her. They didn't understand her in the slightest. All she wanted to do now was to get this ceremony over with . Afterwards, she could spend the rest of the day doing whatever she pleased. Locked in her room, no one could tell her what behaviours were unladylike, improper, immature, whatever. She was free to be herself, away from their scrutiny and expectations.

Her mother released an exasperated sigh, as if she sensed her oldest daughter's disinterest at what she was saying. "Look, Splat, I know you think we're all stodgy and stuffy and whatnot. But tradition is important. And all this conformity and dullness you hate is a form of preserving tradition." Oh great. Here she goes again. "We, as the elites, have to work hard to preserve tradition. To show all the little goats the right way to live. This sort of behaviour might have been acceptable when you were younger, but you're practically a woman now. So, at least for today, can you pretend to be excited?"

Pretend, huh? Splat hated pretending. There was no one she would rather be than herself, why would she pretend to be someone else? But it would make this end faster, so reluctantly, she sat up, folded her legs closed, and gave a small, polite smile at her mother. "Goodness Mother, I can't wait to see what you got me for my birthday."

She could picture her mother mirroring her and smiling in approval. "Good girl. Now, I know you didn't ask for this, but they were all out of those paints you wanted." Liar. Splat knew they wouldn't even try to get her anything they wanted. To fauns, individualism was a plague meant to be driven out and replaced with neat, clean conformity. Asking for a set of colourful paints could lead to creativity. Individualism. And they could not have that. Still, she continued to smile.

"Oh, that's no problem mother. I'll be happy with whatever you get me. Authority does know best, after all." Ancients, she felt dirty saying this stuff. They drilled these phrases all the time in school, and she was always grateful she had one teacher who showed her books written outside the village a few years back. He had died a couple of years ago, but she still held onto his books. They were hidden away under a shelf in the school library, in a corner no one would ever consider going to.

"Well, that's just swell dear! We've been discussing this for a while now, and I'm sure you'll absolutely love it!" Splat stifled a laugh. There were a myriad of snarky jokes she wanted to make at the moment, but she held her tongue.

"Right. Now, presenting after months of hard work, our little birthday present from us to you! You can take the blindfold off now."

Splat peeled the piece of cloth off her face, and threw the blindfold aside. When she did, the first thing she saw was the ugliest effing dress she had ever seen in her life.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Asked her mother, making her question her mother's sanity again. It was mold-grey in colour, with long, billowing sleeves and a hoop skirt that looked too long to move comfortably in. It had an off-white sailor collar, and the only other colours came from the lacy edges of the sleeve and the buttons. Both of which were probably white at some point in their lives, but over time had yellowed into the shade they were today. It was a conservative, colourless, utterly hideous number, which would probably only serve as good fuel for a fire.

"Wow, Mother… Father… grandparents, aunts and uncles…" She awkwardly acknowledged the sudden herd of relatives in the room. It was almost as if they materialised into the room out of thin air. And a monstrously ugly dress came with them. "Well, I don't know what to say…"

"Isn't it great dear? You know, I think grey looks great with your eyes." She disagreed. Splat was very proud of her eyes, the particular shade of green they were resembled fresh grass in the summertime. She read that out of a book of poems her teacher gave her, and that phrase continued to stick with her to this day. Saying this abomination went well with her eyes felt like a personal insult.

"Sure, Mother. I'll probably save this for a really special occasion." Like a bonfire, she said in her head. So no one heard that comment except for herself. Although thankfully, she seemed to have made her mother satisfied. She was giving her that toothy, pearly white grin again. With a swift movement, she took the dress off the mannequin, and bowed towards her elders. "Please excuse me, I'm going to go out soon. I agreed to spend some time with some friends today, and I simply must get ready."

And with the approval of her elders done, she sauntered over to her bedroom. Then she closed the bedroom door, and tried to see where she kept her sewing kit.

One of the books her old teacher left her was a simple fashion magazine. It wasn't much, but she had just became a teenager then. The mere sight of such glamorous outfits was enough to make her feel excited. By now, she had probably seen every dress and skirt in the magazine at least a dozen times. Despite that, she now sat huddled behind a tall bookshelf, flipping through the magazine once more.

It was a beacon of hope most days. On days where life was just too dull and she couldn't even find it within herself to feel passionate, she would flip through the magazine and look at the colours and designs. All the different cuts and patterns, and she would imagine a world out there. A world that was just as colourful and diverse. Where everyone was allowed to embrace what made them unique. She dreamt of one day escaping into such a world, where she could one day truly be herself. Free and happy among the weirdos.

But as she thought back on that hideous, horrible dress, she could only sigh. The world of rainbow dresses and beauty and wonder felt so far away. If only she could find a way to get out of this world...

She flipped to the last page, and smiled. That last page was always her favourite. A centaur woman smiled at her from the glossy page, wearing a vibrant purple vest. She was wearing something from the "Warriors" collection. Designed by some lady called Charity. That vest looked amazing on her, and it was something she hoped to wear someday. Sewing classes had just begun for her year, but she was having problems finding the right fabric. Everything was either in a horribly dull grey or an obnoxious off-white. Blandness incarnite. Gag.

But just as she was about to flip to the cover, she noticed something in the bottom corner of the page. Something she had never noticed before. She turned back to that page, and quickly scanned through it.

She couldn't believe her luck! Despite flipping through the page dozens of times, she had only just now saw the instructions on how to make dye printed at the back. The font was small, and too closely coloured to the background, but there it was! She read it once, twice, three times. Taking in the instructions with every syllable. And within her, she felt like something had suddenly lit up again. She took in the instructions one more time, and a smile of contentment stretched across her face. At last, colour was within her grasp. This was truly the best miracle a girl like her could ever ask for.


End file.
